


Food and Other Love Languages

by ellewrites



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: A little angst, Canon Divergence - Iron Man 3, M/M, Mostly Fluff, feederism, feederism light tbh, sex and a box of French pastries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 23:31:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21044597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellewrites/pseuds/ellewrites
Summary: As Bruce chewed thoughtfully he made the most delicious face, closing his eyes, clearly appreciating it immensely, hitting Tony straight in his sensitive chest and shooting pleasure through his gut to see Bruce so enraptured by something he’d created. Not that it was particularly uncommon for Bruce to be overwhelmed by his genius in the lab – though that worked in reverse too – but this was so humble and so... personal. It had no application beyond the next half hour. This was one pure moment of joy and that’s when it hit him – food.Food was how he could show Bruce he cared.





	Food and Other Love Languages

**Author's Note:**

> There are authors that do this much better than me – [nina_monk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nina_monk), for instance. I have just played with this idea for a while in my head and finally decided to go for it.

“Good thing for me your love language is gifts.” 

Pepper had said it off-handedly one day as she teased him about using his credit card to get herself something nice, but he stared at her blankly as he watched her walk away, ponytail swinging. He had to break it down like one of those fucking sentence diagrams they showed him in grammar in seventh grade. 

_ Good thing _ – Tony knew what that meant. Good was good, good thing was a good thing. 

_ For me _ – obviously, it was good for _ her _, he understood that part. 

_ Your love language _ – that’s where he just blanked out. His _ what _? Love... language? He knew plenty of languages but what did that have to do with love?

“What the hell does that mean, J?” 

There was a brief pause as JARVIS collected the information and then fed it back to him.

“According to my search, Ms. Potts is most likely referring to _ The Five Love Languages: How to Express Heartfelt Commitment to your Mate _ by Gary Chapman –”

“Oh good God,” Tony muttered.

“– which outlines five ways to express and experience love between romantic partners. Quality time, physical touch, acts of service, words of affirmation, and yes, gifts, are listed as –” 

That was about all Tony cared to hear about that. 

But he got the gist of it enough that his mind couldn’t stop working on the idea and overanalyzing anything he ever gave anyone from then on out. Because yeah – maybe he had a thing for giving people stuff. He always had a lot of stuff and people always seemed to like it when he gave them stuff. It made him feel good and sometimes it even made them hang around a little longer. But he wasn’t really ashamed of that so much. What he was stuck on was the frustrating instances where it didn’t seem to work. And no one had ever frustrated him as much as Bruce. 

Bruce very much did not like gifts. This was something Tony learned right away. Even before they had started seeing each other, Bruce turned down his gifts. When Tony offered him a room in the tower, Bruce left – even though he had nowhere else to go and came back only a few months later, he couldn’t bring himself to accept the offer outright. When Tony offered to outfit him a lab, Bruce never acknowledged that at all and instead awkwardly accepted the fact that Tony did it anyway like he couldn’t have stopped him if he’d tried – which, to be fair, he probably couldn’t have. Even when Tony kissed him Bruce acted like maybe he shouldn’t be enjoying it at first until he got over himself enough to accept that it was definitely going to happen and he definitely wanted it. 

It was horrible. 

He never wanted Bruce to feel obligated to him or worse – like Tony's gifts were insincere or pushy. What Tony wanted was for the man he loved to be constantly surrounded by things he wanted and enjoyed in a way that clearly proved Tony loved him. And the fact that he couldn't figure out what Bruce wanted or enjoyed was a significant source of consternation for him.

However, after one particularly memorable dinner, Tony finally figured it out. 

Most people thought Tony couldn’t cook, but that wasn’t exactly true. The truth was that Tony wasn’t _ patient _ enough to cook. He hated waiting fifteen minutes for water to boil and leaving chicken to brown inevitably meant that he became distracted by something else and it got burnt. But he had been exposed to a wide variety of cuisine as a child and following a recipe was no different than any other lab experiment so when Tony forced himself to focus the way he had that night, he was actually quite good.

Plus, he had Bruce there to entertain him so it wasn’t so bad to sit there not touching a piece of steak as it seared when he could chat with his favorite person as he cooked it. 

“Tony – this is pretty amazing,” Bruce said as he stared at the proffered plate of creamy pasta primavera loaded with plenty of veggies and a beautifully seared filet sliced against the grain and plated elegantly. 

“I feel like I should take a picture and post it on the tower's slack channel,” he laughed. “No one would believe you made this.”

“Ah, so you’ll be another among the menagerie claiming my work as your own?” Tony teased, watching anxiously as Bruce took his first bite, a forkful of steak and pasta all at once. 

But as he chewed thoughtfully he made the most delicious face, closing his eyes, clearly appreciating it immensely, hitting Tony straight in his sensitive chest and shooting pleasure through his gut to see Bruce so enraptured by something he’d created. Not that it was particularly uncommon for Bruce to be overwhelmed by his genius in the lab – though that worked in reverse too – but this was so humble and so... personal. It had no application beyond the next half hour. This was one pure moment of joy and that’s when it hit him – food. 

Food was how he could show Bruce he cared. 

He knew Bruce’s childhood, knew he grew up relatively poor – Bruce had once admitted he never even had something as innocuous as pad thai until he was at Harvard. He knew neither of Bruce’s parents cooked much beyond basic spaghetti and taco Tuesday or whatever. And he knew that one of Bruce’s favorite parts of traveling the world was all the unique local cuisine he got to taste, often from families that had nothing and offered him some humble dish full of spicy combinations he’d never had before that he never required or requested for his services as a doctor or an engineer or even, sometimes, a mechanic. 

And it all came together for Tony in one glorious moment as Bruce opened his wide brown eyes with soft appreciation for him in a way Bruce never had before. 

“This really _ is _ amazing,” Bruce said after he’d swallowed. “You’re going to regret letting me know you can cook like this.”

“I doubt it,” Tony replied earnestly, a solid lump in his throat for some reason he couldn’t discern. 

After that, there was no more mediocre pizza or catered in sandwiches for Bruce. Tony was usually busy and so while he personally couldn’t spend a lot of time in the kitchen, that didn’t mean he couldn’t _ buy _ Bruce a phenomenal dinner. 

He hired a personal chef for their suites in the tower. Ostensibly for the other Avengers too, but as they weren’t around as much, she mostly worked for Tony and Bruce. And Tony was sure that Bruce couldn’t be mad about hiring her as a gift since she really was on the payroll and he made sure to pay her a lot. And when she wasn’t available, he ordered in all over New York. Bruce got carefully prepared Chinese dim sum or Japanese ramen with hand pulled noodles. Bruce got Italian ravioli stuffed with egg yolk and Spanish paella with clams. Bruce got traditional Indian dishes Tony had never heard of and every spit-cooked Brazilian meat available. Nothing was too exotic or obscure for Tony to get his hands on and he loved nothing more than surprising Bruce with something unique and delicious and watching his face light up as he ate. And if Tony enjoyed it a little more than he should well then so be it... right?

They were sitting in bed one night, actively not watching some mindless action movie with bad tech devices, so Tony ended up watching Bruce instead as he dug the last few choice pieces of veggies from a bento box with chopsticks and sighed happily. Tony hated to admit he was sporting a stiffy from it but the way Bruce closed his eyes in delight, well... that always did it for him. It wasn’t the kind of boner he actively felt like doing anything about, it just felt good. He liked it. Hedonist, whatever. He was never one to shy away from a label.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to fatten me up,” Bruce murmured with a sly expression while Tony tried not to squirm. 

That wasn’t really true at all but it was true that ever since he realized Bruce would easily accept food as a gift they had both gained a few pounds. Well. Maybe more than a few but who cared about twenty or thirty pounds between lovers? Bruce had been underweight anyway. He looked good now. Tony liked the way his hips had disappeared into the solid brick of his torso. He liked how he could slide his hands against the fleshy parts of Bruce’s body and feel them give into the pressure. He liked how present he felt beside him, now.

“You _ are _ trying to fatten me up?” Bruce teased, putting the chopsticks in his mouth and pulling them out slowly to lick them clean before jabbing Tony in the side with them. 

Tony jerked away as he laughed, his own box finished and put up only a minute earlier but safely out of the way. 

“You think this is like Hansel and Gretel and now I’m going to cook you for myself or something?” Tony asked as he leaned in for a kiss. 

“Well, you can’t keep your mouth off me,” Bruce laughed as he pulled away. 

“Guilty,” Tony said as he pressed a kiss into his neck, right under his ear, whispering his lips across it after. “Besides, the other guy likes it too.” 

Bruce tensed suddenly as Tony said it – he could feel the muscles in his neck stiffen. 

“I’ve seen the data, babe,” Tony said as he sat back and gave him a little distance. “Your own damn fault for being so fucking meticiulous.” 

Bruce sighed and wheedled and dragged one of the remaining snow peas through the sauce. 

“I know,” he admitted, defeated. “It feels a lot better, too.”

“_ I _ know,” Tony teased, leaning back in to nuzzle Bruce’s cheek with his nose and run a hand across his stomach, feeling the lack of hard muscle there now – still there but buried beneath a wonderful layer of fat.

Bruce glared at him but it was mostly playful. 

“I doesn’t drain me so badly any more, now that I have extra calories to burn. It hurts less – hey!” Bruce protested with a laugh as Tony’s fingers curled into the extra fold of skin and he nipped at his neck. “Are you seriously fucking hard right now?” 

Tony sat back as if Bruce had smacked his hand away and he didn’t really want to analyze why he reacted so strongly. He shouldn’t be embarrassed. Bruce was his partner and he was handsome as hell. So what if he got turned on watching him enjoy himself? That was Tony’s whole goddamn schtick. 

Bruce’s hands were grasping the bento box protectively and Tony looked at him. 

“So?”

There was a moment of tense silence – neither of them were very good at expressing themselves, especially when it hit the right chord. But after a minute Bruce set his box on the end table and grinned at Tony, lightening the mood instantly. 

“Come here,” he said, not giving Tony a chance to move at all before sliding over to straddle his lap, kissing him hard. 

But it kind of became a thing, after that. A thing Tony noticed about himself. That watching Bruce eat turned him on and he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t urgent and it didn’t feel perverse but... it was definitely a thing. A Thing, even – Thing with a capital T. 

He couldn’t help watching him across the table at lunch with the team, kicked back and enjoying himself as he munched french fries, swiping them nimbly through ketchup. Holding a danish in his mouth as he came down to the lab with his hands full and a cup of coffee in the morning. Licking his lips of cherry juice before taking another bite of a galette. Carefully layering a fajita just the way he wanted it then relishing the first bite. 

Fuck – it felt good. With other people the types of gifts he gave were not things that could be constant, but this? Holy shit. At least once a day he was bringing Bruce something delectable so he could watch his eyes light up and Tony could get the high of seeing him smile and eye it enthusiastically before indulging, pleasure written all over his face in this cute, subtle way that simply felt right. 

So Tony was a little turned on by it. At least with age it lacked urgency, but still. It was... Weird. Weird that he felt so good all the time. High on that baseline horniness that made his blood hum with latent desire. He'd never had anything like this before. Never. But the problem with that was that when he had to go without it he missed it terribly. And Tony had to go without an unfortunately frequent degree given all the work he did in other states and overseas.

Still, he always tried to bring Bruce something back to make their reunion sweeter and this time was no exception.

Bruce was already in bed when Tony finally made it up, carrying with him a little box of pastries straight from France where he had been that morning trying to influence a trade negotiation over renewable energy. There had been a time when he never expected Bruce to be there when he returned and Tony never failed to appreciate that any more the opposite was true. Tony would have been surprised if Bruce was anywhere other than where he usually was at ten o’clock at night – cuddled up in bed with a tablet and scrolling through it lazily. 

“God it’s good to be home,” Tony announced as he walked through the door and Bruce, eager man that he was, jumped out of bed in nothing but his silk pajama pants to welcome him home. 

Eager? Whatever. Who said that was a bad thing? Tony was _ always _ glad to be received this way. Bruce was the first partner he’d had in a very long time to breeze past all the talking and bullshit of coming home from a trip and skip straight to the physical stuff. Tony really liked the physical stuff. It was clear Bruce knew that, too. 

He didn’t even look twice at the box as he took it from Tony and set it on the dresser. Instead he took Tony’s face into his hands and stroked his thumbs across it warmly as he kissed him quite thoroughly, leaving him breathless with his heart pounding when he finally pulled back to look him in the eyes just as deeply. 

“How do you feel?” he asked, keeping his voice soft. The first question out of his mouth was always personal, never about business. 

“Better – now,” he admitted as a blush crept up his neck. It was easier being honest with Bruce because he _ wanted _ to be – but it was still hard to let himself be vulnerable. 

In reply, Bruce stroked one hand back through his hair tenderly, his other palm still flat against Tony’s face, studying the lines there. Tony noticed the laugh lines at his eyes and how his cheeks were fuller and he liked it. God he was getting old. 

“Good. I’ll run you a bath,” Bruce said and he was still touching him like if he took his hands off he would disappear again. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, big guy,” Tony admitted, leaning in for another lingering kiss. 

Bruce always made him a bath when he got in late, claiming it would help him settle in for the night and get over the jet lag. And he always put some kind of expensive, luxurious foaming oil in it that he would never use for himself. Vaguely Tony found himself wondering what Bruce’s love language was. Acts of service? God he was getting so _ old _. 

Then Bruce would talk – or rather, he would let Tony talk, asking little pointed questions to guide the conversation as he sat on the edge of the bathtub in his silk pajama pants that were a bit too tight now, slippers on his feet, running a hand through Tony's hair as Tony lay back and took in the fragrant, calming scent of lavender. 

Unlike with other people, Tony knew Bruce only asked to make him feel better and that he could give a shit less about the answers, so it didn’t matter what he told him. Bruce asked him about the negotiation and Tony gave him a rambling description of the building it was held in. Bruce asked him about the building and he replied with an anecdote about Ségolène Royal at dinner. It didn’t matter, Bruce just missed him and wanted to be close to him. It was extremely flattering. It was more than that. It was... validating. It made him feel loved. 

“You should come with me next time,” Tony said after a few minutes of silence – his eyes having drifted shut and his body fully submerged up to the chin. 

“Planes are hard...” 

Bruce was just repeating the same shit he always did and Tony knew it was true and he didn’t really want to make Bruce uncomfortable, but... he just hated not having Bruce by his side all of the time. 

“I thought Mean Green was happier now.” 

Tony opened his eyes when he heard Bruce chuckle, looking down at him with affectionate eyes. 

“Not all of my fear comes from him, you know.” Bruce’s smile was nearly coy. “I also just really hate flying.”

Tony fought the temptation to splash him and instead sat up, groaning where he was sore. Getting old was a bitch. 

“Fine. You travel all over the world by yourself and then get with me and expect you can just laze around the house while I bring you back gifts. I see.” 

“It’s not like that,” Bruce laughed as he got up to retrieve a towel from the warmer. 

“It’s definitely like that,” Tony teased, hitting the valve to drain the water as he stood.

“I don’t even _ like _ gifts.” 

Bruce held out the towel for him as he stepped out of the tub and let Bruce wrap him up into it, easing the transition between the hot tub and the relatively cool air of the penthouse. 

“Fine – I’ll go eat that box of French pâtisserie from a beautiful little shop recommended to me by none other than François Hollande all by myself,” Tony snipped with a smirk and Bruce thunked him on the nose in a super infantilizing and simultaneously adorable way. 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“I would.” 

Bruce’s eyes shone with amusement and Tony loved it. He loved being home. He loved how attentive Bruce was. He loved looking into his eyes. He felt like it was unfair that Bruce was so good at this and he was so bad. Bruce said it only moments ago – he didn’t even like gifts. But that was all Tony could do, the only thing he could give him. At least he had gotten a little better at it. At least Bruce wasn’t allergic to pastries. Poor Pepper. 

“You don’t have a sweet tooth like me,” Bruce said, leaning in towards him. 

Tony grinned as he followed Bruce’s lips as they brushed by playfully, refusing to make actual contact. “Yeah but you _ know _ how petty I can be.” 

“You’re going to eat a whole box of pastry and give yourself a stomach ache out of spite?” 

“If you don’t fucking kiss me right now I might.” 

Bruce chuckled, slipping his warm, soft hands beneath the towel and pulling him in close, claiming his mouth in a kiss. His tongue was warm too and his hips were warm as they pressed up against him so Tony dropped the towel and they stumbled backwards to the bed. 

Tony stared down at him, pressing his shaggy gray-brown hair out of his eyes. He was going to have to make him a hair appointment. He would never make one on his own. But Tony also liked how young Bruce looked this way too despite the gray in his hair, with his glasses off and his curls wild against the duvet. 

He felt a generous spark of arousal as he leaned over and kissed Bruce slowly, savoring having him there under him with his legs spread, their hips pressed together. Bruce was wider now, not the skinny little thing he had been when they met, and Tony pressed a hand to his side, feeling him breathing. He could lay his whole body on top of him now and snuggle in deep and he loved that. He loved Bruce so much that he felt guilty by what he wanted from him now. It was a weird feeling. A feeling he didn’t like. Guilt. Ugh.

But still – he pushed up off the bed and smirked. 

“Go on, get in bed,” Tony said, trying not to let it eat at him. “I’ve been waiting three whole _ days _ to snuggle naked and watch shitty TV with you.” 

Bruce eagerly stripped off his pants and climbed into bed as Tony retrieved the box of pastries to join him. Already Bruce was talking to J to pull up the ridiculous sci-fi series they were in the middle of not-really-watching – except when Nathan Stark was on screen. Tony was always interested in not-so-subtle media portrayals of himself. It may or may not have been the only reason he’d suggested watching the show. 

He set the box in Bruce’s lap and leaned back against the bed frame, trying not to be too obvious about the way he was watching Bruce as he opened it. But there was a little intake of breath when Bruce saw the contents that set Tony’s blood on fire. 

“Choux,” he murmured happily and Tony smirked. 

“Next time I’ll get you shoes if you want,” he teased and Bruce narrowed his eyes at him dangerously. 

“Don’t.”

Tony turned to face Bruce completely Bruce's eyes fell back to the contents of the box, mentally assessing which one he’d eat first. 

“I’d love to get you a nice, expensive pair of Italian loafers,” Tony continued to joke, his voice flat and serious. “Next time I’m in Italy. I’ll even get you a cheap pair. Only a couple thousand euros.” 

Bruce shoved him without turning his eyes towards him, but he was grinning. He knew Tony wasn’t serious. Only a few months ago that joke would have shut him down completely. Now, though, Bruce had relaxed enough to know he was teasing. 

“Eclairs, religieuse – they made these on The Great British Bake Off! Macarons, pain au chocolat, oh! Croissants! I’ve always wanted to try croissants straight from France.” Bruce turned to him, beaming. “Thank you. This is wonderful. A thousand times better than a pair of shoes.”

Tony tried not to squirm as he waited in anticipation for Bruce to select one and taste it. It was a weird kind of anticipation, sharp in his gut, and as much as he wanted to cuddle up with Bruce he also wanted to see his face, see him take that first bite, knowing he had succeeded in a physical way, feeling it in his dick. 

“Crème pâtissière _ with _ ganache?” Bruce murmured, delighted, as he selected the one that looked like a little snowman. 

Tony had no idea the names of most of them, not like Bruce did. He just told the man behind the counter that he wanted only the best stuff to ‘delight his lover’ in his lilting French. It seemed to have worked though. 

Bruce picked up the snowman’s head, trying to avoid the cream and ganache with his nimble fingers as he took a bite. He hummed out a pleased groan as he chewed slowly, savoring it, and yeah – that was _ good _. Tony felt a shiver up his spine as he watched him as he put the rest of the top of the pastry in his mouth and lick off a spot of chocolate from his thumb. 

“This is really phenomenal, the best choux I’ve ever had,” Bruce assured him and Tony bit his tongue on what he wanted to say. 

_ You’re really phenomenal, the best boner I’ve ever had, _ Tony thought to himself.

“Here,” Bruce said, picking up the bottom of the snowman. “Try this.” 

Tony took a bite for Bruce, knowing Bruce felt better when he was able to share, making sure he got a bite with cream, ganache, and choux. And yeah, it was actually pretty damn good. 

“I did do good,” Tony said, pleased, as Bruce swallowed. 

“You did,” Bruce agreed, leaning in to kiss him, chocolate on his tongue. 

When Bruce let go and turned back to the box Tony settled in against his shoulder, trying not to hump his stiffy into Bruce’s hip just yet. He did want Bruce to enjoy his gift. Though it was nigh impossible not to press his lips to Bruce’s neck and feel him swallow. God fuck – it was unfair what this did to him. He was fucking perverse. So fucking perverse but – damn. 

He could feel how pleased Bruce was like a physical thing in his skin and he could hear Bruce’s happy little sigh when he finished the snowman and eyed his fingers where there were serendipitous spots of ganache like he was deciding which one to attack first – but Tony made the decision for him. 

Tony grasped Bruce’s wrist gently in his hand and pulled it forward, licking his thumb and then sucking his forefinger into his mouth. He could feel Bruce’s chest expand fully and he watched as his eyes fell closed, focusing on the sensation of Tony’s tongue rolling around his finger gratuitously before pulling it from his mouth. Bruce's eyes opened slowly with a mild glare. 

“I know this turns you on,” he accused but Tony didn’t drop his eyes or look away. 

There was something obviously guarded and fearful in Bruce’s eyes and Tony hated that look. He didn’t want him to think there was anything wrong with this. It just wasn’t like that. Even if it did make him feel a little perverse himself.

“So?” Tony asked, restraining himself from moving in to burying his head in Bruce’s neck and mouth along it because he knew Bruce needed more than that. 

“It makes me feel weird,” Bruce said, his eyes falling to the box longingly. “It makes me feel like a freak.” 

Tony couldn’t help but laugh, earning him a pretty severe expression from Bruce, but he smoothed it away by running his fingers across his cheek, feeling the stubble starting there, very maturely not bringing up the Hulk.

“It’s not like that,” Tony assured him as he picked up a pink macaron from the box. “I don’t need – whatever to get turned on by you, you know that right?”

Bruce looked at him again and watched as he took a bite, trying to gauge his sincerity. 

“I just... I like giving you stuff. Pepper says it’s my ‘love language.’ And – hey!” 

Bruce had started laughing at that and Tony wanted to pout but he found himself grinning as well, unable to stop himself as he shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth. He had missed Bruce’s laugh so much. It had been all of a couple damn days. What a sap. 

“I know, it’s stupid, but you’re really hard to buy stuff for! And I don’t want to give you stuff you don’t want or that will make you uncomfortable but I – I can’t help it. It makes me feel good when I’m able to give stuff to the people I love.”

The look Bruce gave him then was full of gentle affection. Tony gave into the desire to nose along his neck.

“And it makes me feel _ really _ good to watch you enjoy yourself,” Tony said into his collarbone, pressing a kiss to it after the admission, trying not to be embarrassed. 

He was a grown ass man. He was _ old _. He was allowed to enjoy his partner enjoying his gifts.

“Tony, I... You don’t have to do or give me anything, I –”

“Stop,” Tony said, sitting up, pushing the box off his lap so that he could sit across it. “I know I don’t _ have _ to, but I like to. It makes me feel good and... When I look at you now, I see –” 

“Someone who needs to go to the gym?” Bruce interjected and it was Tony’s turn to glare. 

“No, you idiot,” Tony muttered. “I see how _ happy _ you are!”

Bruce looked away, chagrined, but Tony grasped his chin carefully and pulled his face back to look at him. 

“I was just thinking about how I used to come home from business trips and I wasn’t even sure if you’d be here when I returned. Do you know what that feels like?” Tony knew his eyes were a little hard and angry but he was too tired to fight how he was feeling and make it palatable for Bruce.

“But now? All this?” Tony ran his hands down his thick, hairy chest and grabbed his love handles and leaned in close. “I look at you and see happiness. I see meals we’ve shared together and laughed over. I see desserts you enjoyed brought back from all over the world and meals I learned to cook just for you. I see someone who wants to stay here, with me, and be with me. I see someone who’s not afraid to be happy anymore. 

“And _ yeah _ – that turns me on. So fucking sue me.”

Bruce swallowed and looked like he might start to cry and Tony didn’t want that. So he grabbed one of the eclairs from the box and though he didn’t really enjoy that kind of overtly sugared nonsense, he tore it in half and then looked straight at him as he licked his tongue into the hole to lick at the cream. 

“Jesus, Tony, stop it,” Bruce laughed but Tony could tell he had been on the verge of crying after all.

He grabbed Tony’s wrist and pulled the pastry towards himself, taking a bite of it, unable to keep the pleasure from his face any more than Tony was able to keep his dick from getting hard. 

“This is so good, you can’t just defile it that way,” Bruce teased and Tony shook away Bruce's hand, holding it out for Bruce to take a bite from freely. 

Bruce paused but then indulged him, taking a big bite straight from his hand, closing his eyes as he did so and chewing slowly and Tony felt a shiver start at the base of his spine. They had never been so direct about it before but this was – wow. This was pretty damn good. 

He took the last bite Tony was holding in that hand and licked at Tony’s fingers. If Tony wasn’t hard before he certainly was now and he needed the reminder Bruce gave him that he still held the other half of the eclair in his other hand. 

“Oh,” Tony mumbled stupidly as he held it up for him and Bruce sighed happily, his eyes appraising Tony like he knew just what he was doing to him now and Tony could only watch him through half lids filled with lust. 

Bruce’s hands found their way to Tony's ass, kneading it slowly as he gently brought him forward until their dicks touched and Tony’s mouth fell open with a moan. Tony steadied himself with one hand on Bruce’s shoulders as he finished the eclair slowly, deliberately a little messy with the last bite, leaving chocolate on the edge of his mouth. 

Tony realized he was panting as he pressed his hand against Bruce’s face, stroking the chocolate across his lower lip before leaning in to kiss it off slowly, edging his tongue along Bruce’s entire mouth as he went. 

“Fuck,” Tony whispered against his lips as he went, rocking his hips down into Bruce’s. “If you only knew how good you looked...” 

“Good enough to eat?” Bruce answered with a huffy laugh and Tony bit at his jaw, staring up at him lovingly. 

“Wanna find out?” Tony asked as he ran a hand down to Bruce’s hip. 

Bruce breathed deeply and watched as Tony shifted his knee between Bruce's legs and spread them a little, slipping his hand down between them, down beneath Bruce's balls, fondling him lightly with dry fingers. He watched closely as Bruce closed his eyes the same way he did when he tasted something particularly delicious and Tony couldn’t handle it. He slid back so he could lean down and kiss his hip, his shaft, mouthing his balls gently as Bruce sighed, then licking across the underside of his dick. 

Tony paused, supporting himself with both hands as he looked up at Bruce. 

“I really love you,” he said softly as Bruce pulled a pain au chocolat from the box, tearing off a piece. “And I can try and stop, if you want.” 

It was something he hated to say because it made him feel so exposed. I love you and the like. No one ever seemed to really believe it, figured he was too selfish to ever really love another person – but that wasn’t true. He got distracted easily and he had a lot going on in his head, sure, but that didn’t mean he didn’t _ love _. In fact, he contended he fell faster and harder than most people. He loved Bruce from the moment he saw him smile for the first time. 

Bruce fed him a piece of chocolate stuffed croissant. 

“Don’t,” he said, looking down as he ripped off another piece. 

“Don’t what?” Tony asked as he swallowed. 

“Don’t stop,” Bruce said so quietly Tony had to strain to hear it. Neither of them were particularly good at stuff like this. “The food, it... It makes me feel safe and – loved. That’s why I’ve never asked you to stop. Even when you kept getting turned on and making it weird.” 

Tony couldn’t help the grin that broke over his face then as he sat up and took the piece of croissant from Bruce’s hand and fed it to him with a kiss to his cheek that evolved as he slid his mouth across Bruce's cheek to his ear, nipping the lobe and teasing it with his tongue until Bruce squirmed under him. 

“Can I ride you tonight?” he asked, wanting to go slow, to see Bruce’s body spread out under him, to roll his hands in his flesh and feed him little bits of sweets as he moaned underneath him it. 

“Yeah,” Bruce breathed out, an eager little note to his assent, and Tony bit his neck playfully before slipping to the edge of the bed to get their supplies. 

Tony was glad Bruce wasn’t inherently self-conscious of his body, though he figured that probably had a least a little to do with the fact that Bruce shared it with the Hulk now, because he loved Bruce splayed out like this beneath him. The strain in Tony’s thighs spread across Bruce's wider hips felt good as he lowered himself on his dick. In return, Bruce always watched him with such pleasure and wonder that even though Tony was a little sensitive about how soft he had become over the years, he still felt handsome and desirable in Bruce’s lust-blinded eyes. 

Bruce’s hands held Tony's hips as he rocked them slowly, the pressure of Bruce inside his body feeling so fucking good. Tony put his hands on either side of his waist, spreading his fingers to press them into his flesh, and Tony couldn’t help but moan. He wondered vaguely why they didn’t do this position more often. It was slow, sure, but man did it feel good. 

“Fuck, babe,” he gasped, running one hand up his body to thumb a hard nipple, feeling Bruce’s hips jerk at the sensation. “I missed you.” 

Bruce wasn’t as inclined to talk during sex but he bit down on his lower lip, tilting Tony’s hips back a little, moving his own hips up into Tony’s body, so slow their skin didn’t even smack together. 

“Hey,” he said, stilling above Bruce’s hips, getting Bruce’s attention as he looked over at the contents of the box and ran his finger through the ganache on one of those chocolate covered snowmen. 

Before he was even done Bruce had opened his mouth eagerly for it and Tony had to stop completely or risk coming right then like a fucking kid. He moaned something obscene when he slipped his finger in Bruce’s mouth, watching him suck it off with his hot tongue, eyes closed, savoring it. 

“God, fuck!” Tony’s genius become monosyllabic as he leaned in and pressed his lips to Bruce’s. 

He tried to be gentle, he really did, he had all good intentions of going slow, but the kiss was more tongue and teeth than anything else and he could feel the way Bruce’s body responded to that – hardening beneath him, becoming tense and needy, searching for more. 

And then Bruce’s hand was on his face, pushing him up, back, away, into the sitting position again and it took Tony a moment but he realized he tasted chocolate and Bruce ran his hand down his throat, smearing it across his skin. Bruce licked his own hand of what was left roughly before grabbing Tony by the knees so he could move into a sitting position. 

Then Bruce wrapped his arms around his back, cradling him, drawing him close before laving his tongue over the chocolate on his chin, his neck, his lips, roughly swiping across each smear he’d left, eagerly devouring it and Tony was beside himself with how singularly hot that was. 

His dick was pressed hard up against Bruce’s stomach and he rocked his hips pitifully for friction, each forward push drawing Bruce from his body an inch only to allow him to slam back down on him again. 

“More,” he begged roughly, twisting his hands in the sheets to give Bruce better access to him than if he had his fingers clawed into his back the way really, really fucking wanted. 

Bruce crushed one of the delicate pastries in his hand, covering it in cream and chocolate, and wiping it haphazardly across Tony's chest and neck. His eyes were blown wide and his breathing was coming in hard pants and Tony fucking loved Bruce like this, when he lost all his hard fought for control and became wild and needy when they fucked.

He grabbed Bruce’s wrist and licked at his fingers desperately, peering between them at Bruce’s dilated eyes as he watched Tony suck at his digits. Apparently it was more than Bruce could take because he shoved Tony back onto his back, changing their position, breaking their bond but sliding himself back into Tony quickly. 

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Tony cried out as Bruce bit into his chest, licking at crème pâtissière and ganache with a frenzied tongue.

Tony immediately remembered why he didn’t ride Bruce that often because holy hell – when Bruce was on top? He always went at it hard. Hard enough for Tony to see stars and wear out his name. 

He curled his fingers in Bruce’s hair and watched as Bruce licked him clean, moaning desperately with each slam of Bruce’s hips into his. He could feel each moan in his dick, edging him closer when Bruce came suddenly, gasping his name and burying his face in his skin. 

But Bruce only gave himself a moment to tongue a sugary spot on his collarbone before kissing down Tony's body to claim his dick for his own. 

Tony was so swollen and desperate when Bruce engulfed him that he pushed himself deep into his mouth, forcing Bruce to place a firm hand on his hip to hold him down. Bruce’s eyes looked up at him across his body with unreserved amusement and delight and Tony couldn’t help the way it made his heart catch. God, he loved him.

Bruce slipped his fingers into Tony’s lube slicked hole, expertly locating his prostate and massaging it firmly, making short work of Tony’s overwrought and ready body. Tony forced himself to watch as Bruce closed his eyes, guzzling his cum like pastry cream, making the twist in his stomach ache as he whimpered, unloading until his knees were weak and shaky. 

When he was done Bruce flopped down on top of him, his heavy body feeling good against Tony’s, and Bruce nosed at his ear, the tip of his tongue teasing it as he whispered, “you always taste so good.” 

Tony felt like his ribcage might collapse or that maybe his brain was going to explode as he turned and kissed his partner, tasting chocolate and his own cum in his mouth. How did he know how to say things in such pitifully earnest and painfully hot ways? It was way too early for him to get it up again, but Tony was already planning how thoroughly he was going to fuck Bruce tomorrow morning for _ that _ comment.

“I guess you should’ve taken a bath after,” Bruce sighed as he sat up and his absence irritated Tony childishly and he pouted up at him. “I’m just going to go clean off and wash my hands. I’ll be right back.”

Tony might have been inclined to follow him but he was pleasantly relaxed and he didn’t want to wreck it beyond crawling to the head of the bed again and flopping down into the pillows. All his joints seemed loose and light and when Bruce returned he watched him through slitted eyes as he reach for the box, privately finishing off the pastry he had wrecked during sex before setting the box on the table.

Then Bruce crawled into bed, cautiously spooning himself up against Tony’s stomach, picking up his arms and encircling himself with them, holding him close. And Tony pressed his face into the back of his neck, lacing it with soft kisses as he slid slowly towards sleep. 

“You could have anything you want,” Bruce whispered, likely not even believing Tony was still awake but hoping that he was, “and you want this?” 

Tony just hummed affirmatively as he squeezed him tighter, enjoying the solid feel of his body, the way his arms no longer so fully encircled themselves across it, nestling his fingers in his thick hair and pulling him even closer. He didn’t think Bruce was just talking about his body this time.

“Always,” Tony confirmed softly, kissing his neck. “All the time. Forever.”

He listened to Bruce sniffle a minute and held him close, not trying to patronize him with unwanted questions or make him feel like he had to explain. Tony just wanted him to know he was there. He was always there. He would always be there. 

“Love you,” he whispered and Bruce’s fingers tightened around his own. 

“Love you, too.”


End file.
